CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(Monographs) 


ICIUIH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  IMicroraproductiont  /  institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  hittoriquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notai  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliogrH>hically  unique,  which  may  alter  any 
of  the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming,  are 
checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il 
lui  a  M  possible  de  se  procurer.   Les  details  de  cet 
exemplaire  qui  sont  p«ut-4tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue 
bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image 
reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification 
dans  la  mithode  normale  de  f  ilmage  sont  indiqu^ 
ci-dessous. 


0  Coloured  covers/ 
Couvcrture  de  couleur 

0  Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagte 

0  Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicula 


□  Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


n 


n 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Caites  giographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Ercre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleuc  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge  interieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  aiouties 
tors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  etait  possible,  ces  pacies  n'ont 
pas  ete  f  ilmees. 


0 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 


□  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurees  et/ou  pelliculies 

0  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  decolortes.  tacheties  ou  piquees 

□  Pages  detached/ 
Pages  detaches 

□  Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


□  Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualite  inegale  de  I'imf) 

n 


impression 


Continuous  pagination/ 
Pagination  continue 

Includes  index(es)/ 
Comprend  un  (des)  index 

Title  on  header  taken  from:/ 
Le  titre  de  I'en-tCte  provienti 


n  Title  page  of  issue/ 
Page  de  titre  de  la  I 

□  Caption  of  issue/ 
Titre  de  depart  de  la  h 


ivraison 


n 


Masthead/ 

Generique  (periodiques)  de  la  livraison 


7 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplementaires: 


Pagination  is 
La  pagination 


as  follows:  p.  28-40. 
est  conune  suit:  p.  28-40. 


This  Item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filme  au  taux  de  reduction  indique  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X 


22X 


26  X 


nx 


V 


n 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28  X 


32  X 


The  copy  filmed  h«r«  hat  b««n  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 


L'axamplaira  filmi  fut  raproduit  grica  i  la 
ginirositi  da: 


Victoria  University,   Toronto 
E.J.    Pratt   Library 

Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  eonsidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificationa. 


Victoria  University,   Toronto 

E.J.    Pratt   Library 
Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  At*  reproduitas  avtc  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 


Original  coptas  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  improa- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  beginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustrated  impraa- 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illuatratad  impraasion. 


Las  axamplairas  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  tn 
papier  eat  imprimie  sont  filmAs  en  commencant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
darniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinta 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tout  las  autres  axemp*airas 
originaux  sont  filmis  en  commen^ant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporte  une  empreinta 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  at  an  terminant  par 
la  darniire  page  qui  compone  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  eech  microfiche 
shell  contain  tha  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED ").  or  tha  symbol  V  (maening  "END"), 
whichever  epplies. 


Un  dee  symboies  suivants  tpparaitra  sur  la 
darniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — »'  signifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Mapa,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartes,  plenches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvant  atre 
filmis  A  das  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich*,  il  est  film*  *  partir 
de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  *  droite. 
at  da  haut  an  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imeges  n*cessaire.  Les  diegrammes  suivants 
illustrent  le  m*thode. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

'■,  /^'^ 


h 


rloCo^rU,   \y>n-^^<'       Cy>>^//(<  -7.^^ 


\n 


ENGLISH  POETRY 
AND  ENGLISH   HISTORY 


BY 


GOLDWIN    SMITH 


REPRINTKli  FROM   THE 


^immcan  ^iistotifal  ^pvim* 


VOL.  X    NO. 


OCTOBtlf.  If/ 4 


;>"! 


^.v^^4  Bi^ 


THE  UBRARY 

of 

VICTORIA  UNIVERSITY 

Toronto 


[Kqiriiilvil  Iroiii 


IPII-    .\MHlh  AN    IllMoKh    41      K>\lfW.  Vl.l       X,     N.i      I,  l>tl    ,    l'M'4.  ! 


ENGLISH    POKTUY    ANH    F.N(,1  ISII    IllSn^UV 

Mv  subject  is  not  KiirHsIi  poetry  or  ilic  history  <f  I'-iiRlish 
poetrv,  but  the  coiimTtioii  of  luiRhsh  (Hictry  with  Kn^Iish  history. 
What  is  i»etry?  IVsidi-s  reason,  of  which  tlie  liighest  manife~!ation 
is  science,  man  has  sentiment,  (hstinct  from  reason  tiifmtjh  bnnml 
to  keep  terms  with  it  on  ))ain  of  becoming  nonsense,  as  it  not  very 
seldom  <loes.  .Sentiment  seems  tn  imply  a  eravinn  for  soiiutliinR 
beyond  our  present  state.  Its  supreme  expressif)n  is  vitm'.  music  of 
the  mind  connected  witli  the  music  of  the  voice  and  ear.  'I'here  is 
sentiment  without  verse,  as  in  writers  of  fiction  and  orators;  as  there 
)■  verse  without  sentiment,  in  didactic  poetry,  for  example,  which 

•retius  redeems  from  prose  and  sweetens,  as  he  says  himself,  to 
...  taste  bv  the  interspersion  of  sentimental  ])assaKes.  Sentiment 
fuels  its  fittest  expression  in  verse.  The  expression  in  its  origin  is 
nattiral  and  spontaneous.  Then  poetry  becomes  an  art  l.Mikini;  out 
for  subjects  to  express,  and  sometimes  lookimj;  rather  far  afielil.  So 
painting  and  sculpture,  in  their  origin  }ipi>iitaiii.v"s  imitation,  become 
arts  looking  for  conceptions  to  enibom-.  Wc'are  here  tracing  the 
indications  of  luiglish  sentimen^;aiul^-liara^eij  at  succesvive  epochs 
of  the  national  history  finding  their  e\))res>ion  in  poetry. 

thaucer  is  the  first  ICnglish  poet.  He  was  preceded  at  least  only 
by  some  faiiU  awakenings  of  poetic  life.  It  was  in  .\nglo-Saxon 
that  the  luiglislur.an  1  efore  the  C'on(|ue.st  chanted  his  song  of  battle 
with  the  Dane.  It  was  in  I'reiich  that  the  troubadour  or  the 
trouvere  relieved  the  dulness,  when  there  was  no  fighting  or  hunting, 
in  the  lonely  Xorman  hold.  I'rench  was  the  language  of  the 
Plantagenets.  even  of  I'.dward  1.  that  truly  Ijiglidi  king.  .\t  last 
the  English  language  rose  from  its  serfdom  shattered,  adulte.ated. 
deprived  of  its  intleclions.  its  cognates,  and  its  power  of  forming 
compound  words,  unsnited  for  philosophy  or  science,  the  terms  for 
which  it  has  to  borrow  from  the  (jreek,  but  rich,  apt  for  general 
literature,  for  elo(|uence.  for  song.  Chaucer  i>  the  most  joyous  of 
poets.  His  strain  is  glad  as  that  of  the  skylark  which  soars  from 
the  dewy  mead  to  pour  forth  its  joyance  in  the  fresl  morning 
air.  He  is  at  the  same  time  thoroughly  redolent  of  his  a;..,  .  In  the 
Knight  of  the  "  Prologue  "  and  in  the  tale  of  "  Palamon  and  .\rcite  " 
we  have  iiiat  fantastic  outburst  of  a  i)oslluimous  and  artificial  chivalry 
of  which  I'roissart  is  the  chronicler,  which  gave  birth  to  the  ( >rder  of 

(28) 


ca;iaoi,'-:« 


29 


(iolih^'iu  Smith 


the  (iartir  and  a  luiinlicr  of  similar  fraternities  with  fanciful  „anics 
and  ruks.  and  after  plavinR  stranjri  an.l  too  often  saiiRninary  pranks, 
as  in  the  wicked  wars  with  I-rancc,  found  its  immortal  satirist  in  the 
author  of  Ihm  Qmxoh:  In  the  si«.rtinK  Monk,  the  sensual  and 
knavish  !•  riar.  the  corrupt  Sompnour.  the  Pardoner  with  his  pig  s 
bones  shown  for  relics,  we  have  the  Catholic  chr  h  <.f  the  middle 
ages  with  its  once  ascetic  priesth.Kid  and  orders,  its  spiritual  characte. 
lost,  sunk  in  worldliness.  sensuality,  and  covetousness.  calhnR  aloud 
for  W  vclitTc.  At  the  same  time  in  the  beautiful  ix)rtrait  of  the  Go<id 
Parson  we  have  a  picture  of  Kemiine  reliu.-n  an.l  an  earnest  ot 
reform  Here  Cli.wer  hol.ls  out  a  haml  to  Piers  PlouRhm.'in.  the 
,K)et-preacher  of  reform,  social  and  relisious.  if  poet  be  can  be  called 
who  is  the  rouRhest  of  metricJ  pamphleteers,  thaucer's  (,oo.l 
Parson  is  a  fiRure  in  itself  an.l  in  its  connection  with  the  history  of 
opinion  not  unlike  Rousseau's  "  \icaire  Savoyar<l  -.  C-losc  at  han.l 
is  Wvcliffe.  and  behin<l  WvditTe  c.wie  John  P.all  and  the  terrible 
insurrection  of  the  serfs.  Chaucer's  debt  to  I'.occaccio  an.l  the  Italian 
Renaissance  is  m.-mifest;  yet  he  is  F.iiRlish  an.l  a  perfect  mirror  ot  the 

KuRland  .)f  his  thr.c. 

There  was  at  the  same  time  an  exuberance  of  national  life  which 
pave  birth  to  balla.l  po.trv.  The  F-nRlish  balla.ls  as  a  class  are  n.. 
doubt  inferior  to  the  Sctch.  Vet  there  is  at  least  ..tie  ImirIisi 
balla.l  of  surpassing  beauty.  How  can  any  c.llection  ..f  Kiiglish 
poetry  be  th.niRbt  omplete  with.nit  the  balla.l  of  "The  Xut-i'.r..wn 

^laid?"  ,    „  ,        ^ 

There  f.illows  an  aRc  ipropitious  to  poetry  and  all  Rcntle  arts. 
The  Rlon.nis  filibusteriuR  ..f  l-.hvard  III  and  afterwar.l  of  Henry 
\-  in  I'rance  briiiRS  its  punisbm.nt  in  a  Rcneral  prevalence  at  home 
of  the  -spirit  of  violence,  .nulty.  an.l  rapine.  This,  combine.l  with 
arist.icratic  .imbiti.m  and  lacti..n.  plmiRes  the  country  into  the  Wars 
of  the  Roses.  .\t  last  the  Tu.lor  despotism  briiiRs  calm  after  its 
kind.  Helm  an.l  haulnrk  are  cliauRcd  by  the  cuurt  n.ibility  for  the 
wce.ls  of  peace,  an.l  towar.l  the  close  of  the  reiRu  .if  Henry  \TII  we 
have  the  twin  p.ets  W>att  an.l  Surrey:  .Surrey,  the  last  of  the 
tyrant's  victims,  produces  p.ietry  which  makes  him  \v..rthy  to  rank 
as  a  harbiuR.  r  of  the  Elizabethan  era. 

The  tinu-  of  the  Protectorate  and  of  the  Marian  Reaction  were 
dark  and  troublous.  uncniRenial  to  i)oetry.  P.ut  clear  en.n-Rh  is 
the  connection  between  the  spriiiRti.le  of  nati.inal  life  in  the  Khza- 
bcthan  era.  and  the  outburst  of  intellectual  activity,  of  poetry  Rcn- 
erally  and  especially  of  the  drama.  The  worst  of  the  storms  were 
over.     The  R.nernment  was  firm;  the  reliRious  .|uestion  had  been 


APR  141965 


littj^lish  Poetry  and  English  History 


30 


settled  after  a  fashion :  the  ttuTgics  which  had  bt.-cn  ill-.N|>cnt  in 
civil  war  or  marauding  on  I-'rancc  were  turned  to  maritime  adven- 
ture of  the  most  romantic  kind,  or  if  to  war,  to  a  war  of  national 
defense  aimbincd  with  championship  of  European  freedom.  There 
was  everything  to  excite  and  stinuilate  without  any  feeling  of  in- 
security. 

The  next  great  jMicm  after  Ihaucer  is  Spenser's  "  Faerie 
Oueene  ",  and  it  is  intimately  connected  with  English  history.  It 
presents  in  allegory  the  struggle  of  Protestantism,  hcided  Ity  Eng- 
land, with  Catholicism,  and  embodies  that  new  Protestant  chivalry 
which  arose  in  place  of  the  chivalry  of  the  middle  ages,  of  which  Sir 
Philip  Sydney  was  the  model  knight,  and  of  which  j)erhaps  we  see 
the  lingering  trace  in  I'airfax.  the  i,'tiKral  of  the  Commonwealth,  a 
kinsman  of  the  Fairfax  who  translated  Tasso.  The  leading  char- 
acters of  the  struggle,  Elizahetli,  the  Pope,  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and 
Philip  of  .Spain,  under  thin  disguises,  ari  all  there,  .\rtegal,  the 
Knight  of  Justice,  and  Spenser's  model  of  righteousness  in  its  conflict 
with  evil  is  the  Puritan  Lord  Grey  of  Wilton,  the  stern,  ruthless 
Lord  Deputy  of  Ireland,  whose  policy  was  extermination.  Spenser 
was  Lord  Grey's  secretary  and  no  doubt  accompcinied  him  to  the 
scene  of  his  merciless  govcrmnent.  There  Spenser  would  ccime  into 
contact  with  Catholicism  in  its  lowest  and  coarsest  as  w  '1  as  in  its 
most  intensely  hostile  form.  .Afterward  a  grantee  of  an  estate  in 
land  con(|uered  from  the  Irish  insurgents,  he  was  brought  into 
personal  conflict  with  the  Blatant  lieast.  He  was  intimate  with 
Kaliigh  and  r  'ler  militant  and  buccaneering  heroes  of  the  Pro- 
testantism of  111.  day.  In  "The  Sheplurd's  Caleinliir"  he  shows 
by  his  avowal  of  sympathy  with  old  Archbishop  Grindal,  under  the 
faint  disguise  of  "  Old  Allgrind  ",  who  was  in  disgrace  for  couiUen- 
anciiig  tiie  Puritans,  that  he  belonged  to  the  Puritan  secti"  a  of  the 
divided  Anglican  church.  I'ul.some  and  mendacious  (lattery  of  the 
woman  who  has  been  allowed  to  give  her  name  to  this  glorious  age 
is  an  unpleasant  feature  of  Spenser's  work,  as  it  is  of  the  other  works 
and  was  of  the  court  sixricty  of  that  time.  It  is  ])erhaps  pardonable, 
if  in  any  case,  in  that  of  a  poet  who  would  not  be  taken  or  expect 
to  be  taken  at  his  word. 

In  the  drama  we  expect  to  find  rather  gratification  f;f  the  general 
love  of  action  and  excitement,  and  of  curiosity  .ibout  the  doings  of 
the  great,  prevalent  among  the  people,  than  anything  more  distinctly 
connected  with  the  events  and  politics  of  the  day. 

.Shakespeare  himself  is  too  thoroughly  dramatic  to  retk-ct  the 
controversies  of  his  time.  Like  all  those  about  him  he  is  Royalist, 
conforms  to  court  sentiment,  and  pays  his  homage  to  the  X'irgin 


3» 


(ioldwin  Smil/i 


nuet-n.  Prolmbly  lie  |>ays  it  also  to  W.  lariiol  succrssor  iimUr  the 
name  «>f  I'rospcro  in  "  Die  TcnitHst '  Ka'.iiKh  treats  the  (Ireat 
Charter  as  a  democratic  aRRression  on  llu-  riulits  of  royalty.  Shakes- 
peare in  "  King  John  "  does  not  allinle  to  the  (ircat  Charter  or  to 
anythinK  connected  with  it.  In  "  foriolanus  "  an.l  in  •*  Troilus  and 
Cressida"  there  is  stroiip  antidemiK-ratic  sentiment,  dramatic  no 
(lonl)t.  hut  also  with  a  personal  ring-  It  is  notable  that  Shakespeare 
nowhere  alludes  to  the  great  strugRle  with  Spain.  But  here  again 
he  is  prohably  in  unison  with  the  court,  which  though  forced 
into  the  conflict,  was  not  lu'artily  anti-Spanisli  and  certainly  not 
anti-desiK)tic.  In  religion  .Shakespeare  was  a  Conformist.  He 
(|ui/.zes  Noni'Miforniists,  Ixrth  Papist  and  Puritan;  but  probably  he 
did  no  more  than  conrorm.  When  he  touches  on  the  mystery  of 
existence  and  on  the  other  world,  as  in  the  solilo(|uy  in  "  Hamlet" 
and  in  "  Measure  for  Measure",  it  is  hardly  in  a  tone  of  orthodox 
iKlief.  In  the  tl(jwer-market  at  Rome,  not  very  far  from  the  shrine 
of  Ignatius  U)yola.  now  stands  the  statue  of  Giordano  Ilruno.  with 
an  inscription  saying  that  on  the  sjwt  where  Uruno  was  burned  this 
statue  was  erected  to  \\\m  by  the  age  which  he  foresaw.  liruno 
visited  England  in  Shakespeare's  time,  and  was  there  the  center  of 
an  intellectu;.!  circle  which  sat  with  closed  doors.  Was  Shakespeare 
perchance  one  oi  ihat  circle? 

Though  not  political  in  any  j.ar;.  cnse,  Shakespeare  is  full  of 
the  national  and  patriotic  sp'.it  ev(  ked  by  the  circumstances  of  his 
time.  He  shows  this  in  the  battle  scene  of  "  Henry  \  ".  He  shows 
it  in  the  speech  of  the  I'.astard  of  Falconbridge  in  "  King  John  ", 
which  is  at  the  same  time  a  complete  confutation  of  the  theory  that 
Shakespeare  was  a  Catholic,  for  no  dramati  motive  could  have 
sufificed  to  call  forth  or  excuse  such  an  affront  to  his  own  church. 

Xo  person  of  sense,  it  may  be  presumed,  doubts  that  Shakespeare 
wrote  his  own  i)la\s.  Cireeue  and  P.en  Jonson  and  Charles  I  and 
Milton  thought  he  di.l.  lUit.  say  the  llaconians,  how  came  a  \eo- 
mati's  son.  brought  up  among  bumpkins,  and  educated  at  a  country 
graniniar-scliool,  to  actjuire  that  imperial  knowledge  of  human  nature 
in  all  its  varieties  and  ranks?  This  is  the  one  strong  point  in  their 
case.  l>ut  Shakespeare,  in  London,  got  into  an  intellectual  set. 
Several  of  his  brother  playwrights  were  university  men.  The  sub- 
ject of  the  "  Sonnets  "  was  evidently  not  vulgar.  I'.ut  much  may  be 
explained  by  sheer  genius.  .Among  poets,  two  are  preeminent :  one 
lived  in  tile  meridian  light  and  amidst  the  abounding  culture  of  the 
Elizabethan  era ;  the  other  in  the  very  dawn  of  civilization,  as  some 
think  before  the  t  ion  of  writing,  sang,  a  wanderin"-  minstrel, 

in  rude  -Tiolian  or  lonian  halls,  and  the  inHuence  of  Hon.er  on  the 


f 


I:ni;lis/i  IWtry  and  liiii^li.      History 


33 


world's  iinaRiiiatioii,  tlmuKli  li^s  iU«ji,  lias  Inin  wiiKr  than  that  of 
Shaki'siHirt.  Shakrspcari'  tlimiKli  piirliss,  was  not  alone;  perhap* 
he  woultl  i.ot  ivcn  -c  Jk'  peerless  had  Marlowe  lived  and  worWcd, 
for  in  the  last  seen.  ••  of  '  ."aust  "  and  "  I'.dward  II  "  Marlowe  rises 
to  the  ShakesiK-arian  neiRht.  The  thoroughly  national  and  jx>pular 
cinraeter  of  the  Ivn^lish  drama  is  enil)lia?.ized  hv  c  ast  with  the 
court  drama  of  I'rance.  1  nfortunalely,  it  also  sliow>  itself  in  oeca- 
sional  adaptations  to  coar-c  tastes  from  which  the  divine  Shakcs- 
jK'are  is  not  free. 

The  remarkahle  comieciion  of  literary  and  |M)etie  life  with  the 
life  of  action  and  adventure  which  marks  the  KlizalHthan  era  is  seen 
espnially  in  the  works  of  .'•"\dney  a!iil  KaleiRh.  The  close  of  the  era 
is  pathetically  marked  hy  the  death  song  of  KaleiRh.  The  l.aiulian 
reaction  has  its  reliptious  jioets,  or^e  Herlnrt  ^  auRhan.  and 
Wither;  the  hi'st  of  whom  in  every  Miise  was  ( iei  Ilerln-rt.  his 

quaint  and  mystical  style  nofwithstaiidinR.  !  ;,-orRe  hert  was  the 
ptKtic  ancestor  of  the  author  of  '  Tlv  ''l'n?!i '.n  Vear  ".  One  who 
spent  a  day  with  Kehle  mi  his  Hampshire  v  .fniRe  niiRht  feel  tliat  he 
had  hecn  in  the  society  of  (iei  ■■.  Ikiliert  '<■  its  Rcneral  character 
and  prc'Mctions  the  Catholic  r  '  on  in  tin  .\iiRlican  duirch  at  the 
present  (uiv  is  as  nearly  .is  possihle  a  repetition  of  that  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  its  nltinuite  tendency  is  the  s;.mc.  The  only  dif- 
ferences are  that  the  iH)etry  of  the  present  movement  has  not  the 
quaintiKss  or  the  conceits  of  that  of  the  l.audian  hards  and  that  its 
architictnre  is  a  revival  of  the  medieval  (iotliic.  wheroas  that  of  the 
Laudians  was  ralladian. 

The  political  side  of  the  reaction  also  produced  its  ]X3etry.  very 
unlike  that  of  the  reliRioiis  side,  poetrv  written  hy  lavaliers— 

*M)ur  carelc!is  heads  wilh  rn>-  >  ImiuiuI 
Our  hearts  with  loyal  t\r  ..os." 

(  )f  this  school   Lovelace  was  the  best,  though  it   was   Montrose 
that  wrote  the  famous  lines 


"  I  ciiulil  not  love  thee,  ilrar,  so  much, 
l«v'(l  I  not  honour  more  " 

On  the  Puritan  side  comes  one  greater  than  all  the  Laudians  and 
Cavaliers.  Xothing  else  in  poetry  cipials  the  sublimity  of  the  first  six 
books  of  "  Paradise  Lost  ".  Their  weak  jxiint  is  theological,  not 
poetic.  The  hero  of  the  piece  and  the  •  >ject  of  our  involuntary 
admiration  and  sympathy  is  the  undaunted  and  all-daring  majesty  of 
evil.     In  Milton  classic  fancy,  the  culture  of  the  Renaissance,  and 


35 


GoMu'hi  Smith 


even  a  toucli  of  medieval  romance  were  blended  with  the  spiritual 
aspiration  of  the  Puritan. 

"  Hut  Ifi  my  Hue  ftet  never  fail 
To  walk  the  studious  cloysters  jiale, 
And  lo   i  the  hi|{h  emlwwered  roof, 
With  antic  pillars  massy  priH>f 
And  storied  windows  richly  di^ht 
Casting  a  dim  religious  ii^ht." 

The  most  classic  tliinps  in  our  language  are  the  "  Conius  "  and 
the  "Samson  Agonistes  " ;  but  "Paradise  l^st  "  and  "Paradise 
Regained  "  aie  also  cast  in  a  classical  mold. 

A  noble  monument  of  the  Puritan  movement,  though  of  its  polit- 
ical rather  than  of  its  religinis  element,  is  Marvell's  ode  to  Crom- 
well. Again  we  see  the  influence  of  tlie  classics,  which  was  not 
only  literary  but  political  an<l  entered  henceforth  deeply  into  the 
political  character  of  luigland. 

The  counterblast  of  Royalism  to  "  Paradise  Lost  "  was  Butler's 
"  Hudibras  ",  the  delight  of  Charles  II  and  his  courtiers,  whose 
mental  elevation  may  be  n;easured  thereby.  It  is  a  very  poor  travesty 
in  verse  of  Don  Quixote,  with  a  Presbyterian  Roundhead  in  place 
of  tlie  Don.  Its  principal  if  not  its  sole  merits  are  the  smart  sayings 
of  which  it  is  a  mine  and  its  ingenious  rhymes.  There  follows  the 
riotous  reaction  of  the  tlesh  after  the  reign  of  the  too-high  soaring 
spirit  under  "  our  most  religious  and  gracious  King  Charles  II  ",  as 
the  Act  of  Parliament  styles  him.  The  poetry  and  drama  native 
to  that  era  are  in  keeping  with  the  social  life  of  the  time  and  con- 
genial to  the  seraglio  of  Whitehall.  The  poetry  was  in  fact  largely 
the  work  of  the  court  set  of  debauchees.  Dryden  and  Waller  were 
originally  the  oflfspring  of  the  bygone  era  and  craftsmen  of  a  higher 
and  purer  art.  I'.oth  of  them  had  written  eulogies  on  the  Pro- 
tector. Hut  if  spiritual  life  was  at  a  low  ebb,  the  tide  of  political 
life  was  running  high.  It  presently  took  the  .shape  of  a  fierce  and  in 
the  end  sanguinary  conflict  between  the  two  parties  known  afterward 
as  Whigs  and  Tnries.  Drydeti's  "  .\bsalom  and  .\chitophel  "  is  the 
offspring  of  that  conflict.  It  is  about  the  best  ))oIitical  satire  ever 
written,  and  its  excellence  depends  largely  on  its  dignity  and  modera- 
tion: for  while  Shaftesbury  is  ])oliticaIly  the  object  of  attack,  his 
jutlicial  merits  are  recngnized.  in  fact  greatly  overrated,  and  the 
portraiturt'  is  true.  The  next  episode  in  luiglish  politics,  the  attempt 
of  James  II  to  make  himself  absolute  and  force  his  religion  on  the 
nation,  is  likewise  mirrored  in  Dryden's  verse.  The  poet  became  a 
sudden  convert,  let  us  hope  not  wholly  from  mercenary  motives, 
to  the  court  religion,  and  we  have  a  singular  monument  of  his  con- 

AM.   HIST.    RKV.,  Vill.   X.  -Z. 


Endish  Portrv  and  En^^Ush  History 


34 


version  in  •'  The  Hind  and  the  I'antiicr  ".  wluTcin  one  beast  strives 
l)v  a  lonsj  arsunuiit  in  verse  to  persuade  another  heast  to  rest  its 
rehpoiis  faith  on  a  pope  and  council.  Hallani,  iiowever,  is  riglit 
in  reniarlvin^'  that  l)r> den's  special  Rift  is  the  power  of  reasoning 
in  verse. 

We  have  now  come  to  a  period  in  which  poetry  most  distinctly 
wears  the  character  of  an  art.  It  is  the  period  between  the  I'.nglish 
Revolution  and  the  premonitory  rund)lings  of  tlie  j;Tcat  social  and 
political  earth(|uake  which  shook  luirope  at  the  end  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  :  a  period  of  comparative  calm  and.  generally  sjieaking. 
of  spiritual  torpor,  the  Church  of  hjigland  dozing  comfortahly  over 
her  pluralities  and  tithes.  Dryden.  I 'ope,  and  Addison  are  not  the 
tirst  pojts  of  this  e...  ^:  before  them  had  been  Waller,  Denham,  and 
others  of  whom  it  might  clearly  be  said  that,  feeling  in  themselves  a 
certain  poetic  faculty,  they  cultivated  it  ••  ''s  own  sake  and  for 
the  praise  or  en\olnment  which  it  brougl.  i.     Their  characteristic 

is  skill  in  comi)osition  rather  than  height  (ji  aspiration  or  intensity 
of  eu'.otion.  The  greatest  of  them  are  Drvden  and  Pope,  though 
Drvden  was  a  child  of  the  Puritan  era.  The  most  consummate 
artificer  of  all  is  Pope.  .Vothiug  in  its  way  excels  '"  The  Kape  of 
ti'  Lock",  or  indeed  in  its  way  the  translation  of  the  lUnd.  little 
I  iomeric  as  the  translation  i>.  In  the  "  h'ssay  on  Man  "  however  and 
"The  Tniversal  Prayer",  wh:  h  is  the  hymn  of  a  free-thinker,  we 
meet  with  the  sceptical  philosophy  which  was  undermining  the  found- 
ations of  religious  faith  and  jireparing  the  way  for  the  great  polit- 
ical revolution.  The  inspiration  is  that  of  Pope's  friend  and  philo- 
sophic mentor,  the  \oltairean  I'.olingbroke.  Pope  rellects  the 
fashion.ible  sentiment  of  the  time,  which  in  Knghsh  or  in  Parisian 
salons  was  a  light  scepticism,  as  Horace  \\'alp"le"s  writings  show. 
In  a  u-.ore  marked  and  truly  astounding  form  does  the  growing 
sce])licism  present  itself  in  that  tremendous  ixieui.  .^wilt's  "  Day 
of  ludgement  ",  How  must  X'oltaire  have  chuckleil  when  lu'  got 
into  his  hands  lines  written  by  a  dignitary  of  the  Anglican  establish- 
u-enl  and  making  the  Creator  of  the  Iniverse  proclaim  to  his  ex- 
IHCtant  creatures  that  all  was  a  delusion  and  a  farce  I  It  is  needles.s 
to  sa\  that  Swift's  works  generall\.  including  his  \  irses,  poems  they 
can  hardlv  be  c  illed.  speak  of  the  irreligious  jiriest  au<l  the  coming 
of  a  sceptical  age, 

I-"ew  now  look  into  the  minor  poets  of  tlio>e  times  or  read  John- 
son's criticism  of  them,  the  ro])ust  criticism  of  an  tnisentituental  and 
imromantic  school.  Yet  there  is  a  certain  pleasure  in  the  feclini; 
of  restfulness  produced  by  the  total  absence  of  strain.  Their  poetry 
marks  the  same  era  which  is  marked  by  Paley's  theology  and  philoso- 


o5 


iiol(h^'in  Sinttit 


l)h\.  an  ira  of  calm  licforc  a  gr.at  convulsion.  In  Gray  and  Collins 
wc  kcl  tlic  RrowiiiR  inlluoncc  of  sentiment,  which  is  one,  though  the 
mildest,  of  the  premonitory  signs  of  change.  In  (ioldsmith's  "De- 
serted \illagc  "  the  social  sentiment  is  miUlly  democratic. 

The  stream  of  luiropean  history  is  now  approaching  the  great 
cataract.  In  luigland,  notwithstanding  Wilkes  and  I'.arre.  there  is 
no  serious  tendency  toward  political  revolution.  The  movement 
there  rather  takes  the  form  of  religious  revival.  Methodism,  evan- 
gelicism.  social  reform,  and  philanthropic  ettort.  I'.ut  if  Engl.i'ul 
had  anv  counterpart  to  Rousseau,  it  was  in  Covvper.  through  whose 
'■  'lahle-Talk  "  with  its  companion  essays  in  verse  there  runs  a  mild 
vein  of  social  revolution.  Xor  did  Cowper  look  with  dismay  or 
horror  on  the  early  stages  of  the  Revolution  in  1  "ranee.  He  speaks 
very  calmly  of  the  storming  of  the  I'.astile.  He  showed  a  distant 
sympathy  with  i'.urns,  whose  democratic  sentiment 

"  .\  111.111"^  a  iiuin  for  a    tli.ii  *' 

has  lieen  nut  the  least  of  the  sources  of  his  immense  iwpularity, 
though  by  his  own  confession  he  was  willing  to  go  to  the  West 
Indies  as  a  slave-driver.  We  may  recognize  Piunis  as  one  of  the 
foremost  in  the  second  class  of  poets,  unsurpassed  in  his  own  line, 
without  allowing  ourselves  to  have  his  character  thrust  upon  our 
svmpathv.  The  union  of  high-poetic  sensibility  with  what  is  low 
in  character  has  been  seen  not  in  lUirns  only,  but  in  llyron,  in  lulgar 
Toe.  and  in  many  others.  If  we  are  to  pay  homage  to  such  a  char- 
acter as  that  of  r.urns  liecause  he  was  a  great  Scotch  jxx't,  why 
should  we  p,iv  it  to  that  paragon  of  pure-miuiled  and  noble-hearted 
gentlemen.  Walter  Scott  ? 

The  luiropean  crisis  jirepiired  by  the  teachings  of  \'oltaire.  Rous- 
seau, and  the  Encyclopedists,  combined  with  the  decay  of  institutions 
and  the  accumulation  <u'  i>olitical  abuses  and  ecclesiastical  insinceri- 
ties, had  n<iw  come.  It  came  unfortunately  in  :m  eminently  excitable 
and  impulsive  nation,  full  of  the  vanity  which  Talleyrand  notes  as 
predominant  in  the  Revolution.  I"or  .some  time,  in  spite  of  the 
weakness  of  the  king,  the  meddlesome  folly  of  the  (piecn,  and 
the  demagogic  eln(|uenee  of  .Mirabeau,  fatally  repelling  the  indis- 
I)ensal)le  coiiperation  of  the  court  with  the  Assembly,  matters 
went  pretty  well.  I'.ut  at  last,  through  a  scries  of  disastrous  acci- 
dents and  blunders,  the  Revolution  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  vile 
nob  of  Paris  and  its  Terrorist  chiefs,  .\obody  could  be  blamed  for 
being  hopeful  and  sympathetic  at  first  or  despondent  and  disiiirited 
after  the  September  massacres. 


English  Poetry  and  luiglis/t  Ifistory 


36 


Poetic  natures,  such  as  those  of  Coleridge.  Wonlswortli,  and 
Southc) .  at  first  were  naturally  fired  with  enth\)siasni  and  hope. 

"  0  pleasant  exercise  of  hope  ami  ji-y  ! 
For  mighi)  were  the  auxiliars  which  then  sl4i()il 
Upon  our  side,  we  who  were  stronn  in  love  ! 
liliss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  be  olive. 
Hut  to  he  younj;  was  very  heaven  '.  — '  >  limes 
In  which  the  mcaj;re,  stale,  forhidding  ways 
I  ( )f  custom,  law,  and  statute,  tm>k  at  once 

The  attraction  of  a  country  in  romance  ! 
When  Reason  seemed  the  most  to  assert  her  rights, 
When  most  intent  on  making  of  herself 
A  prime  Knchantress  —  to  assist  the  work. 
Which  then  was  going  forward  in  licr  name." 

In  C'oleridpe.  the  great  I'antisocrat.  rather  curiously,  the  recoil 
seeius  to  have  come  first.  I'.efore  Wordsworth  and  Southey.  he  had 
discovered  that 

"  The  Sensual  and  the  1  >ark  relicl  in  vain, 

Slaves  liy  their  own  <  ompulsion  '.    Ill  mad  game 
Thev  hurst  their  manacles  and  wear  the  name 
<  >f  Freedom,  graven  on  a  heavier  chain  !  " 

He  presently  became  a  most  philosophic  hiemphaiU  of  ortliod<ix 
])olitics  and  of  the  doctrine  of  the  estahlished  church.  In  his  pecu- 
liar wav.  in  fact,  he  mav  he  said  to  he  about  the  i;re:ilest  of  Anslicati 
divines.  Wordsworth,  it  is  needless  t..  say.  jireseutly  shared  the 
recoil.  The  spirit  of  his  poetry,  whenever  he  t<iuches  on  institutions, 
civil  or  relijrious.  is  thoroughly  conservative,  (hi  the  other  hand, 
nehher  of  these  two  men  can  be  said  to  have  turned  Tory.  '1  hey 
simply  fell  hack  on  attachment  to  the  national  polity  and  i)riiiciples. 
The  I'rench  Revolution  had  ended  natural!)  by  Riving  birth  to  a 
niilitarv  desjiot  and  coU(|ueror,  the  struggle  against  whom  was  a 
strugle  for  the  liberty  f)f  all  nations.  Southey  became  more  decidedly 
Torv,  and  though  he  was  one  of  the  best  and  most  amiable  of  men, 
drew  upon  hhuself  Whig  hatred  and  ;d)use.  He  lives  chielly  by  his 
lAjc  of  Sclson.  Yet  he  is  no  mean  iioet.  "  The  Curse  of  Kehania  "' 
is  a  splendid  piece,  full  of  the  gorgeous  imagery  and  the  fantastic 
mvthologv  of  the  East.  Kehania.  the  impious  rajah,  whose  career 
of  insatiable  ambition,  after  coii(|uering  earth  and  storming  heaven, 
ends  in  his  plucking  on  himself  a  miserable  doom,  is  evidently  Na- 
poleon, whom  as  the  arch-enemy  of  his  kind.  Southey  regarded  with 
the  intense  anil  righteous  detestation,  vented  in  the  spirited  oile  on 
the  negotiations  with  I'.onaparte. 

On  the  other  side,  we  have  in  different  lines  P.yron,  Shelley,  and 
Tom  Moore.  Keats  may  perha])s  be  regardeil  as  one  of  he  circle, 
though  he  wrote  nothing  distinctl}   in  that  sense.     P.yron  is  perhaps 


37 


Goldioin  Smith 


more  European  than  English.  Ik  left  England  at  an  early  age. 
ami  though  he  revi.sitcd  it  did  not  settle,  but  spent  the  rest  of  his  life 
mainly  in  Italv.  Still  more  was  he  idiosyncratic.  The  self-pres- 
entation and  self-worship  which  1^11  his  poems  are  unparalleled,  and 
considering  the  character  of  the  man  who  thus  pours  out  upon  us  his 
lacerated  feelings  and  .sentimental  woes,  one  finds  it  difficult  now  to 
read  the  first  cantos  at  all  events  of  "  Childe  Uarol.l  "  with  much 
respect  or  pleasure.  But  the  novelty  of  Byronisni.  its  attractions  for 
weak  egotism,  and  the  poetic  dress  which  the  writer's  unquestionable 
genius  gave  it,  helped  perhaps  in  some  measure  by  his  rank  and  his 
personal  hcautv,  made  it  the  rage  of  the  hour.  .\s  an  Englishman, 
Hymn  was  not  a  political  revolutionist:  in  fact  he  always  remained 
an  aristocrat:  but  he  was  a  social  iconoclast.  Mis  great  work,  as 
his  admirers  probably  say  with  truth,  is  "Don  Juan",  with  its 
affected  cvnicism  and  unaffected  lubricity.  :\lacaulay  sneers  at 
liniish  moralitv  for  its  condemnation  of  llyron.  British  morality 
niav  be  prudish,  fitful,  and  sometimes  hollow,  i'.ut  it  has  guarded 
the'  family  and  all  that  depends  thereon,  as  Byron  had  goo.l  reason 
to  know.     Italian  morality,  however  poetic,  did  not. 

The  connection  of  Shelley  is  rather  with  European  history  than 
with  the  history  of  England,  though  he  could  not  shake  himself  free 
from  the  intluences,  attractive  and  repulsive,  of  bis  birthplace.     His 
interest  in  the  French  Revolution  is  proclaimed  in  the  opening  of 
"  The  Revolt  of  Islam  "  and  makes  itself  felt  generally  through  the 
poem.     A  revo'utionist  Shelley  was  with  a  vengeance  In  every  line, 
religious,   political,    social,    moral,   matrimonial,    and   even    dietetic, 
wanting  us  to  be  vegetarians  and  marry  our  sisters.     He  was  in  fact 
an  anarchist,  though  --.s  far  as  jjossible  from  being  a  dynamiter; 
resembling  the  gentle  Kropotkin  of  our  day.  who  believes  that  we 
should  all  be  goofl  and  happy  if  we  would  only  do  away  with  the 
police.     It  is  curious  to  see  the  story  of  Prometheus,  the  great  rebel 
against  the  tvrant  of  the  universe,  half  .vritten  by  .lischylus  and 
finished  in  the  same  spirit,  after  the  lapse  of  all  those  centuries,  by 
Shelley.     .Vn  Anglican  college  could  not  in  those  days  help  expelling 
a  rampant  propagator  of  atheism,  tlmngh  it  has  now  adopted  his 
meniorv  and  built  him  a  strange  and  incongruous  shrine  within  its 
courts.     Nor  could  Eldon,  as  the  legal  guardian  of  the  interests  of 
Shellev's  children,  have  left  them  in  the  ban<ls  of  a  father  who  would 
have  brought  them  up  to  social  ruin.     Shelley,  however,  like  Rous- 
,  "au,  was  cosmopolitan.     He  withdrew  from  English  citizenship  to 
speml  the  rest  of  his  days  in  Italy.     Moreover,  he  was  a  being  as 
intensely  poetic  and  as  little  allied  to  earth  in  any  way  as  his  own 
skylark.     He  is  not  the  first  of  poets  in  mental  power,  but  he  is,  it 


English  Poetry  and  English   History 


;>« 


seems  to  me,  the  most  purely  and  intensely  jioelic.  What  could  lead 
my  friend  Mattluw  Arnold  to  disrate  Shelley's  poetry  and  put  it 
below  his  letters,  I  never  .niild  understand.  "  A  beautiful  but  inef- 
fectual angel,  beating  in  tlu  void  bis  luminous  wings  in  vaui  " ;  such 
was  Arnold's  description  of  Shelley,  and  true  it  is  that  so  far  as  any 
practical  results  of  his  poetic  preaching  were  c<incerned.  the  angel  did 
beat  bis  wings  in  vain;  but  if  he  v.-is  luminous  and  beautiful,  be 
fulfilled  the  idea  of  a  poet. 

Tom  Moore  clearly  belongs  to  the  history  of  his  age.  He  is  the 
bard  of  the  Whigs  in  their  tight  with  the  Tory  government,  and 
of  his  native  Ireland,  then  struggling  for  emancipation.  He  is  a 
thorough  Irishman  with  all  the  lightness  and  brilliancy  of  his  race, 
with  all  its  fun  and  with  all  its  pathos.  The  jiathos  we  have  in 
"  Paradise  and  the  I'eri  ",  as  well  as  in  ■  Irish  Melodies  ".  The  fun 
takes  largely  the  form  of  political  satire.  \'ery  good  the  satire  is, 
though  like  almost  all  satire  and  caricature,  it  loses  a  part  of  its 
pungency  by  lapse  of  time.  To  enjoy  it  thoroughly  you  must  have 
lived  at  least  near  to  the  days  of  the  Regency,  I'.ldon,  Castlereagh, 
and  Sidiuouth. 

On  the  other  side  we  have  Walter  Scott.     When  be  is  named  we 
think  of  the  incomparable  writer  of  fiction  rather  than  of  the  ixiet 
Yet  surelv  the  writer  of  "  Marmion  ",  of  the  introduction  to   '  Mar- 
mion  ".  and  of  the  lyrical  pieces  interspersed  in  the  tales,  deserves  a 
place,  and  a  high  place,  among  poets.     Is  not  "  Marmion  "  a  noble 
piece  and  the  most  truly  epic  thing  in  our  language,  besides  being 
most  interesting  as  a  tale?   Scott  is  claimed  politically  and  ecclesiasti- 
cally by  the  party  of  reaction.     It  is  said  that  he  turned  the  eyes  of 
his  generation  back  from  the  sceptical  and  revolutionary  ])resent  to 
the  reverent  and  chivalrous  past.     He  has  even  been  cited  as  the 
harbinger  of  Ritualism.     The  romanee.  of  which  he  was  the  wizard, 
certainly  instils  love  of  the  past.     So  far  he  did  beli  mg  to  the  reaction. 
But  his  motive  was  never  political  or  ecclesiastical.     <  )f  ecdesia.stic- 
ism  there  was  nothing  alx)ut  him.     He  delighted  in  mined  abbeys, 
but  a  boon  comi)anion  was  to  him  "worth  all  the  llernardan  brood 
who  ever  wore  I'roek  or  hood  ".    A  Tory,  and  an  anient  Tory,  be  was. 
An  intense  patriot  he  was  in  the  struggle  with  revolutionary  I'rance 
and  her  emperor.     A  worshiper  of  monarchy  he  was-.  <levout  enough 
.  to  adore  (ieorge  \\ .  but  be  was  above  all  things  a  great  artist,  per- 
fectly impartial  in  his  choice  of  subjects  for  his  art.     Welcome  alike 
to  hi:n  were  Tory  and  Whig,  Cavalier  and  Roundheail,  Jacobite  and 
Covenanter,  if  they  could  furnish  him  with  character.     Happily  for 
his  re-    e's,  be  never  preaches,  as  some  novelists  do;  yet  we  learn 
f-om  him  historical  toleration  and  breadth  nt  vi.w.  while  we  are 


i 


■jg  (ioMTt-'i//  Smith 

always  inihibiiif,'  tlu'  scntinifnts  <if  a  genial,  liigh-niindiil.  and  alto- 
gctluT  noble  gentleman. 

We  nnist  not  forget  L'rabbe,  who  though  as  far  as  iwssible  from 
being  revoluti<inary.  perhaps  instils  a  slightly  democratic  sentiment 
bv  cultivating  our  social  interest  in  the  poor.  ICbenezer  KUiott,  the 
author  of  the  '•  (.'orn-I.aw  Rhymes  "  and  no  mean  poet,  is  a  bard  of 
the  liberal  movement  and  especially  of  free  trade.  Unless  he  was 
greath  mistaken,  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  source  of  industrial 
miserv  in  his  day. 

linnyson  has  been  called  a  great  teacher.  The  name  is  inappro- 
p'iate,  as  an\  one  who  had  known  the  man  would  feel.  He  was  one 
of  the  greatest  of  poets,  almost  unrivaled  in  beauty  of  language  and 
in  mel.Mly.  I'.ut  he  had  nothing  definite  to  teach.  With  fix.  d  opin- 
ions he  could  not  have  been  so  perfectly  as  he  was  the  mirror  of 
intellectual  society  in  his  age.     "  There  is  more  faith  in  honest  doubt 

than  in  half  the  creeds. fhere's  something  in  this  world  amiss 

will  be  unriddled  by  and  by."  That  was  his  mental  attitude,  and  it 
was  perlectlv  characteristic  of  a  time  in  which  old  beliefs  were  pass- 
ing away  and  new  beliefs  had  not  yet  been  formed  :  an  age  of  vague 
spiritual  hoi)es  and  yearn'  igs.  such  as  glinnner  in  "  In  Memoriam  " 
and  wherever  Tenny.son  touciies  the  subjects  of  ( iod  and  religion 
and  the  mvstcry  of  being.  In  this  sense  his  poetry  is  a  chapter  in  the 
general  history  of  the  Knglish  mind.  We  see  at  the  same  time  in 
his  jioems  the  advance  of  science,  to  which  with  consummate  art  he 
lends  a  poetic  form.  The  revolt  of  woman  is  playfully  treated  in 
••  The  Princess  ".  Reaction  against  the  i)revalent  commercialism  and 
materialism  finds  expression  in  the  chivalrous  "  Idylls  of  the  King'  . 
Tennyson  is  intensely  patriotic  and  even  militarist,  though  a  man 
could  not  be  imagined  less  likely  to  be  found  on  a  field  of  battle.  In 
this  also  he  represents  an  ecUly  in  the  current  of  national  sentiment. 
In  the  well-known  passage  in  "  .Maud  "  welcoming  the  Crimean  War 
he  thoroughly  identified  himself  with  luiglish  history,  th<nigh  he 
lived,  like  Lord  .Salisbury,  to  find  that  he  had  laid  his  money  on  the  ^ 
wrong  horse. 

The  names  of  .\ubrey  de  \ere  and  I-rederick  Taber  on  one  side, 
those  of  .Swinburne  and  Mrs.  I'.arrett  drowning  on  the  other,  show 
that  linglisli  poetry  has  been  lending  its  lyre  to  the  expression  of  all 
the  different  sentiments,  ecclesiastical,  political,  and  social,  of  an  age 
full  of  life  and  conflict.  I'.ut  the  connection  is  rather  with  European 
than  with  Mnglish  history.  :\latthew  .\rnold  is  the  arch-connoisseur 
and  general  censor,  a^jpreciating  all  varieties  and  regulating  them 
bv  his  taste  rather  than  connecting  himself  with  anything  national  or 
special,  unless  it  be  the  spirit  of  free  thought  which  was  consuming 


Eiis^/isli   Poetry  ami  /:iio/isli   //is/orr 


4C1 


Knglaml  in  bis  day.  His  poetry  is  simply  IurIi  art.  ( )f  I'.n.wninR 
I  fear  to  speak.  His  charac  ristic  poems  <ln  not  pvi-  na-  i)li;iMirt.'  of 
that  sort  which  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  special  function  of  poetry  to 
give.  He  is  a  pbiloso])ber  in  verse  with  r.rovvning  six'ieties  to  inter 
pret  his  philosophy.  He,  again,  symbolizes  the  general  tendeneies  of 
an  age,  rather  than  any  special  period  or  iihase  of  ICnglish  history. 

We  seem  now  to  have  come  to  a  break  in  tlie  life  of  poetry  in 
England  and  elsewliere ;  let  us  hope  not  to  its  close,     'riure  are  good 
writers.    Mr.    Watson,    for  example.     .Swinburne   witli    his   revolu- 
tionarv  fer\'or  is  still  with  us.     Kdwin  .Arnold  with  his  singnl.ir  com- 
mand'of  luscious  language  has  only  just  left   us.     lUit  neither  in 
England  nor  anywhere  else  does  there  i.ppear  to  be  a  great  poet. 
Imagination  has  tak.n  refuge  in  the  novels.of  which  there  is  a  dihige. 
though  among  them,  Ceorge  Eliot  'u  her  pecriar  line  excepted,  there 
is  not  the  ■  ival  of  .Miss  .\u^ten.  Water  ScotJ.  Ihackeray.  or  Dickens. 
The  phenomenon  appears  to  be  common  to  ICurope  in  gener.il.     Is 
science  killing  poetic   feeling?    Darwin   owns  that  he  had  entirely 
lost  all  taste  for  poetry,  and  not  oily  for  poetry  but  lor  a;i> thing 
esthetic.     Vet   Tenny.son  .seems   to  iiave   shown   that   science   itself 
has  a  sentiment  of  its  own  and  one  capable  of  i)oetic  presentation. 
Ours  is  manifestly  an  age  of  transition.     ( )f  what  it  is  the  precursor 

an  old  man  is  not  likely  to  see. 

GoLDwiN  Smith. 


